Blessing
by Tarafina
Summary: "I feel things for Noah that I never expected to, that only he has ever made me feel. They're not butterflies but wasps and they sting me with their ever growing frustration."


**Title**: Blessing  
**Category**: Glee  
**Genre**: Humor/Romance  
**Ship**: Rachel/Puck, Santana  
**Rating**: Teen  
**Warning(s)**: Coarse Language  
**Prompt**: (919): And when I look at him, I just want him to say "I love you" in between deep thrusts and hard grunts. – puckrachel drabble meme  
**Word Count**: 1,672  
**Summary**: "I feel things for Noah that I never expected to, that only _he_ has ever made me feel. They're not butterflies but wasps and they sting me with their ever growing frustration."

**_Blessing  
_**-1/1-

"What are you doing, Manhands?"

"What?" Rachel startled, sitting up a little straighter. "Why do you assume I'm doing anything? I was simply occupying this space, completely silent, and thus I feel there is no reason for you to be bothering me…" She frowned up at Santana. "Unless there was something glee-related that you needed my assistance on." She tipped her head. "I had noticed you were sounding a little flat yesterday, so if that's—"

"Jesus, shut up!" she interrupted, rolling her eyes. With her Cheerio's skirt flapping up at the sudden movement, she took a seat next to Rachel and leaned back, elbows on the bench behind her as she stared out, narrow-eyed at the football field.

"Not that it's any of my business, but…" Rachel raised a brow at her wonderingly. "Shouldn't you be practicing?"

"You're right… It's none of your business."

For the next few minutes, Santana stared out at the field and Rachel tried not to fidget uncomfortably. Sitting next to her was a girl who had religiously tried to tear her down, going so far as to announce to their fellow gleeks that she had slept with Rachel's then boyfriend. Given her current predicament, she wondered if she should blame Santana for the circumstances she now found herself in.

"So, you gonna answer my question?" Santana wondered, looking over at her in a way that was entirely threatening, though not for any specific reason.

Rachel was fairly certain that _threatening _was just the Latina girl's default setting. Much like her stage-smile was how she presented herself to the masses.

"I thought I already had. Would you like me to repeat my previous answer?"

Rolling her eyes, she sighed, long, loud and _suffering_. "I _mean_, what are you doing sitting up here, staring at him like he's gonna sprout wings, fly over and say all that lovey-dovey bullshit you've made up in your mind?"

Rachel blinked. "If I could ask which boy you've made the assumption I am staring at…?"

"You're not fooling anyway, Berry… You want Puck. Hell, _everybody _wants him eventually. You're not the exception."

Bristling, she shot her shoulders back and glared at the cheerleader. "I'll have you know, that any interest I show in Noah is most definitely different from anything any other girl, or cougar for that matter, has shown in the past."

"Cut the shit, Broadway." She sat forward and stared at her. "Lemme just make this clear to you—"

"If you're going to try to bully me into staying out of your way so you can once again try to win Noah's affections—"

Santana's hand came up quickly, waving in front of Rachel's face to tell her to stop and shut up. "Puck is my _boy_, and I don't mean that in a 'We fuck, regularly' kind of way. We used to, it was good, whatever. What I'm saying is, he's my _friend_… We fight a lot and he's an asshole, but he's still my boy… And he's already been fucked up by Quinn and that whole baby drama, so the last thing he needs is some uptight _puta _making him fall in love with her crazy ass only to run off as soon as Hudson turns that dopey smile in her direction…" She raised a brow and stared her down. "You_ get _me?"

"While your vernacular was somewhat confusing, I believe you were trying to tell me not to break your friend's heart…" She smiled hesitantly. "In which case, I find myself rather comforted by the fact that you think I have a _chance _at winningNoah's heart…"

Scoffing, she shrugged and stared back out at the field. "Puck's a jerk most of the time, but whatever… He like, _likes _you or some shit… Lemme just remind you, that if you _hurt _him I will cut you like a little bitch…"

Rachel blinked. "Your frequent threats of violence become less daunting the more you use them."

"Just tell me what you want from him, all right?" she snapped. "'Coz if this is just you looking for somebody to waste some time with—"

"No! No, I…" Rachel scanned the field, spotting the number 20 and unable to keep the smile from tugging at her mouth. "He's a loud, obnoxious jerk, yes, but he doesn't try to be anything else…" She tucked her legs beneath the bench, one ankle behind the other. "And he doesn't expect me to be anybody else either." She lifted her shoulders. "There's an intimacy in honesty, Santana… When you look at somebody and know they're being their genuine self with you, when they let down their guard and tell you things they'd never tell anybody else, and when you know you can do the same…" She shook her head. "Noah knows I'm high maintenance, that I'm slushied regularly, that I'm quite possibly one of the least-liked people in all of McKinley, but it's never stopped him from being seen with me. He… He never looks around to make sure nobody is looking before he puts an arm around my shoulders and suggests something lewd that he knows I'll balk at…" She smiled, ducking her face as a blush spread across her cheeks. "He is not the man I once dreamed of standing next to me in my very definite future of Broadway and fame… But then I wonder if perhaps I've put too much pressure for there to be such a perfect man when a very imperfect one seems so much better suited for the job."

Santana blinks. "Less words, Treasure-Trail."

She glanced at the girl next to her and sighed. "I feel things for Noah that I never expected to, that only _he_ has ever made me feel. They're not butterflies but wasps and they sting me with their ever growing frustration." She balled her hands up into fists. "And when I look at him, I just want him to say '_I love you_' in between deep thrusts and hard grunts."

Santana laughed; a full belly, clutch-her-side _laugh_. "Now _that_ makes sense."

"Do you think… I mean, that is to say, do you truly think I'm being ridiculous in my feelings?"

"I think you're _over _thinking them…" She shrugged. "Look, Puck's simple. He's like… PB and J with the crusts cut off. He knows what he wants and who he wants, but he's not out to be, like, fancy about it."

Rachel stared at her a long moment. "Did you just liken Noah Puckerman to a sandwich?"

"A _good _sandwich," Santana argued, rolling her eyes.

"Okay…" she murmured skeptically. "While I find your metaphor somewhat lacking, I do understand what you mean… He isn't going to go for any grand gestures and it's unlikely he'll ever _make _them either…" She nodded. "The more time I spend in his presence, the more I realize that I don't _need _flashy… I just need safe, and loving, and someone who's equal in my stubborn tenacity."

"Yeah, uh, whatever… Look, I just wanted you to know that you've, like, got my blessing… Unless you fuck it up and break his heart, and then I'm comin' for you, Berry." She stood up, glared down at the smaller girl and then turned on her heel and walked away.

"Santana?" Rachel called out.

The Latina girl turned back, hands on her hips. "Yeah?"

"Thank you."

She looked back at the field and then over to Rachel and frowned. "Just so we're clear, I'm _mostly _doing _him_ a favor."

Rachel grinned. She thought that might just be a compliment of some kind.

Not bothering to wait for a reply, she left, and Rachel turned her eyes back to the field to keep an eye out on her favorite player. Though it grew cold and her skirt did little to ward off the breeze, she tucked her hands beneath her thighs and continued to watch. Finally, when the sky grew darker with dusk and the players began to pack up, she stood from her seat on the benches and stretched her unused legs. It was late and she should probably be getting home. She hadn't realized just how long she'd spent watching, and dreaming, and _hoping_.

Just as she reached the bottom of the stairs, she heard a voice call out. "Hey Berry!"

Turning, she looked over to see Noah jogging toward her. Sweat was cooling against his temples and he was panting somewhat. He had his helmet in his hand and his pants were smudged with dirt. His athleticism, even if it was for a mostly failing team, was attractive.

"Hello Noah," she greeted. "That was a very good practice you just had."

He half-smirked, shaking his head slightly. "Yeah… So, uh…" He licked his lips and then raised a shoulder questioningly, "You hungry?"

Her eyes widened slightly. "Oh…"

"Nothing fancy." He shrugged, head ducking slightly. "I don't, like, have enough dough for 'StiX, but…" He licked his lips, glancing away as his feet moved side to side.

She nodded then, suddenly feeling warm and excited and like the day was only beginning. "How about a sandwich? I've been informed that peanut butter and jelly is the absolute way to go…"

He cocked a brow, but almost looked _impressed _with the simple dinner order. "Yeah, sure, we can stop by my place… 'm sure my mom's got some Jiffy somewhere…"

She grinned widely. "I prefer mine without crusts."

He chuckled slightly. "Best way to go, Berry."

"Yes," she agreed. "I believe you're right."

He held a hand out to her then, a silent communication that she was absolutely sure meant far more than any verbal acceptance could. She took his hand in hers, their fingers threading, and she walked side by side with him down the tunnel. He would still have to stop at the lockers and change, but she was willing to wait. Because this was her chance, her moment to have what she needed rather than what she'd thought she wanted, and she wasn't going to waste it.

[**End.**]


End file.
